Saving Grace
by MrsWinchester01
Summary: I only own my character, Grace. No one else. (Sad face). Hope you enjoy!


**a/n: I decided to make this story in second person. This chapter doesn't flow as smoothly as it did when it was in first person so please forgive that and I promise the second chapter will be much better. Thank you :)**

It was like a scene out of a movie. There you were, walking down the street with your neighbors dog in tow, and earphones in. It was dead winter and you were bundled up in your sweat shirt, red pea coat and a scarf around your neck. You had forgotten your hat and mittens at home but that wouldn't have helped shield out the body numbing cold more than anything else was. You shivered against a brief gust of wind and bowed your head so that your mouth and nose were nestled beneath your scarf, safe from the January air.

Your mind was fuzzy as you walked, but Luke Bryan's voice in your ear distracted you slightly from the cold. You immersed yourself in the music and began to hum along, barely noticing when the front door to a house you were passing was blasted open and a man was shot out of it by an unseen force. The only reason you were prompted to turn and look and see the man flying backwards at you was because of the wave of hot air that rushed by you. It felt wonderful compared to the chill you'd been experiencing, but the man's body slamming against yours, not so much. It would've hurt worse had your body not been so numb. But you did feel your head slam against the pavement and something crack as the leash slipped from your limp hand. You groaned with your eyes squeezed shut and it was echoed by the man rolling off of you.

"Dean!" came an anxious voice from back inside the house. So the man who had knocked into you and caused your ear splitting headache's name was Dean. Hopefully you could remember when you woke up, as you felt unconscious approaching.

"hey, are you alright?" He said, and you were vaguely aware of him tapping your cheek roughly. Your eyes remained closed and you didn't respond as you felt blood begin to ooze from a gash in your head, and Luke Bryan continued to sing to you as you slipped into darkness.

"Staring at the wall, trying to put the pieces back together again. Who did how, what, where and when. Oh, hell yeah. My head hurts..."

spnspnspn

Who knows how long you were out. All you know is when you woke up, you were warm...so warm...memories of what had happened came flooding back immediately and intensified your headache. You threw your hands up to the spot you had smacked on the pavement and were surprised to feel stitches beneath your fingers. You allowed your eyes to slowly flutter open, blinking rapidly against the light from the desk's lamp. You turned your head to allow yourself better focus and found yourself surprised again to be in what appeared to be someone's bedroom instead of a hospital room. You knew the bed had felt too comfortable.

You sat up, swayed, and look around. This was definitely someone's bedroom. There were posters on the wall and books strewn across the desk and floor. Beside the bed was a small, wooden chair with a dark blue blanket resting over the back of it. You assumed someone had been sitting there waiting for you to wake up, because there was a half eaten cup of Ramen on the dresser and an untouched glass of water. You guessed they got tired of waiting. As you pushed the comforter off your legs, you realized you were still in the clothes you were wearing when you were walking the dog. The shoulder of your sweatshirt was stiff with dried blood and you began to wonder for the first time how long you'd been unconscious. Your thoughts were interrupted as you remembered the dog and looked around wildly, hoping he was in the room with you. He wasn't.

"Oh shit," you whispered, getting out of bed and your hand shot out toward the dresser as you steadied yourself. Your head injury had left you unstable and dizzy. You moved towards the door and hesitated, unsure what you would find on the other side. The name Dean crept into your mind and you almost let your guard down and opened the door, but then your hopes that a normal person would have brought you to the hospital stopped you. Your hand rested on the doorknob, and suddenly it began to turn beneath you and you gasped, stepping back as the door swung open quietly and a tall man you assumed to be in his mid-20s like you with long, brown hair came walking in with a fresh glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands. He stopped at the sight of you, looking surprised.

"Oh," he said, "hi." You didn't respond, you just stared up at him. He was easily six feel tall, if not taller. you were a measly 5'4''. "How are you feeling?" you felt your voice return as he said this, but didn't intend on answering his question. Instead you said, "I know karate." The air in the room was tense for a moment before the man cracked a grin and said, "I'm not gonna hurt you." He was still smiling as he moved past you and set the water down on the dresser. It was the kind of smile that made you want to let your guard down and trust him immediately, but you couldn't. He turned to you. "I was just bringing you some pain meds," he said, holding out his hand and offering you two small, orange pills. "Do you want them?" You looked from them to him and shook your head.

"No thank you," you said, "I'm okay." Those pills could have been poison for all you knew. He looked skeptical but set them down beside the water.

"I'll just leave them here for you then." He turned back to look at you.

"Who are you?" you asked. "Why aren't I at the hospital? Where am I?" He opened his mouth to respond but you said, "and where's my neighbor's dog?!" before he could. The man held up his hands to shush you and you glared up at him, waiting for answers.

"Easy," he said, "my name is Sam Winchester. We found the dog and returned it to its owner. The address was on his collar," he explained in response to your questioning stare. you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Are you the one who knocked into me?" you asked.

"No, that was my brother, Dean." Oh, right. Dean. You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to unscramble your thoughts, and Sam put his hands on your shoulders, causing your eyes to snap back open. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah," you lied against the pounding inside your skull. you backed away from his grip. "Is this your bedroom?" He nodded, looking sad.

"Sorry I didn't have anything more comfortable here."

"Where is 'here'? And how long was I out?"

"This-" Sam began but was interrupted by his name being called. He turned towards the door. "In here!" he called back and footsteps made their way down the hall and to the bedroom. "This is our bunker," he said, "and you've been out for about 5 days."

"5 days?!" you said as the man you recognized as Dean came walking in. He stopped at the sight of you.

"You're awake," he said, his voice deep and hoarse. "'Bout time." You ignored him and turned back to Sam.

"5 days?!"

"I-"

"Why didn't you take me to the hospital?!"

"Well, we-"

"Did YOU put in my stitches?" you asked hysterically, looking back and forth between the two brothers.

"Do you want answers or are you just gonna keep screaming?" Dean asked and you shut him up with a glare.

"Please, listen," Sam said gently. You looked up at him, fuming, but allowed him to continue. "We couldn't take you to the hospital, there was no way we'd be able to explain what happened to you. And we thought you'd be safer here." The blood in your veins began to boil and you felt your face flush angrily.

"So you brought me here for your own convenience?!" you demanded.

"No, I-"

"And you thought I'd be safe? You don't even know my name!"

"Actually we do," Dean said, "Grace." You shot him another glare. "We found your ID."

"You mean you went through my stuff." Sam reached out to touch your shoulder again and you threw yourself backwards, almost collapsing onto his bed.

"You can't just bring people into your house and...stitch them up...to save yourself an explanation!"

"You're right," Sam said. His voice was low and sounded apologetic. "I'm sorry." You barely heard him say it.

"Do you even have medical training?" you asked, running your fingers along the uneven thread. Neither Winchester answered you, instead they exchanged nervous glances. "Oh god," you breathed, looking around for your jacket, "I've got to go."

"W-wait," Sam stuttered, his hand reaching towards you for a third time. you shoved it away and turned away from him, spotting your jacket in his opened closet and you ripped it off the hanger. You stormed past the two of them, tears welling up in your eyes, and you made sure to knock into them as you went. As you hightailed it to the door, you heard Dean shout, "yeah, you're welcome!" after you.

"You guys are crazy," you said, your hand on the door knob, about to leave.

"Not as crazy as you're gonna sound if you go to the police," Dean pointed out and he wasn't wrong. you looked down at the floor and sighed.

"Dean, stop," Sam said. With your hand still on the knob, you turned back to face them.

"Is that how you keep all the women quiet? Or am I just special?" Dean smirked at the question.

"You're something all right." You stared over at him, wishing you had something to say back but your mind was fried from the conversation and headache it had given you.

"Don't come near me again or I'll file a restraining order," you warned. "I don't know who you think you are..." You couldn't form a proper word or sentence after this so you simply scoffed, turned around and ripped the door open. you took a step forward and ended up face first into a man wearing a tan trench coat. You squeaked in surprise and stumbled back, apologizing.

"Cas-?" you heard Sam say, equally surprised.

"Excuse me." You pushed the hair from your face and tried to step around him. He didn't let you pass. Instead, he looked down at you apologetically and said, "I'm sorry" before pressing two fingers to your forehead. you heard one of the Winchester brothers rush forward before you fell unconscious again, and that's all you remember before you woke up in your own bed.


End file.
